


Without You

by asterlark



Series: Like A Missing Limb [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Compliant, M/M, Misguided ideas about mental illness (from Kent), Overdose, Pill Abuse/Addiction, Suicide Attempt, Vague Descriptions of a Panic Attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6585292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterlark/pseuds/asterlark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Without You

Kent was supposed to come over to Jack’s hotel room to hang out in the afternoon, but Jack hadn’t texted him all day besides a few clipped responses in the morning. That’s a little worrying but not totally unusual- Jack gets like that sometimes- so Kent decides he’s just being weird and it’s fine to go over.

His gut feeling is correct when he finds that Jack’s door is unlocked, and he breathes a sigh of relief. He really doesn’t want to have to coach Jack through his feelings of inadequacy right now. Not like he minds, but it’s the day before the draft and he just wants to relax and forget about all the anxious energy bubbling in his stomach.

He lets himself into the room, shouting, “Zimms, what’s up!”

The room is empty, and the bathroom door is closed, light streaming out from underneath. Kent shrugs and sits on the edge of Jack’s bed, bouncing up and down slightly, waiting for Jack to be finished in the restroom. That’s when he notices the empty bottles lying on the minibar counter; the hotel supplies four or five bottles of various alcoholic drinks and all of them are drained.

Kent feels his mouth go dry. Yeah, Jack hasn’t been doing great the past few days, but that’s just nerves, right? So what if he got drunk, he probably just needed to take the edge off. He beats himself up way too often and while booze and pills aren’t the _best_ coping mechanism, it’s pretty much all he and Kent have.

He still has a bad feeling, though, so he walks over to the bathroom door cautiously and knocks a few times. “Zimms?”

No answer. Does he have headphones in or something? Kent knocks again, louder this time.

“Jack? Open up, man, c’mon.”

No answer again, and fuck, he’s getting panicked now. Could Jack have drunk too much and passed out? That hasn’t happened too often, he’s built up enough of a tolerance- but it’s still possible.

Kent tries the door and it’s unlocked, luckily, and he takes a deep breath before pushing it open- and oh, _fuck_ -

Jack’s on the ground and he’s not moving, and Kent sees his bottle of pills right next to his hand, nearly empty, and _shit_ , holy _fuck_ , that was almost full last time Kent’d seen it, he can’t- this can’t-

He’s taking in gulps of air now and everything feels fuzzy and unreal but he manages to kneel down next to Jack and pulls out his phone with shaky hands, dialing 911, and he can’t believe he’s doing this, he can’t believe he’s doing it for _Jack_. They were supposed to be untouchable.

He takes a chance and cups Jack’s face with his hand and almost yelps because his skin is cold and he’s so pale, and he doesn’t know what to fucking do.

The 911 operator asks him a couple questions- where he is (hotel), what Jack took (anxiety meds), is he still breathing (yes)- and tells him to roll Jack on his side and to keep watching his breathing. Kent does it all in a panicked rush- this is his best friend, this is his- he doesn’t even know what they are, but they’re _something_ , they mean something to each other, and he can’t fucking lose him.

The operator tells him the ambulance is on its way and that he can hang up, but Kent just sort of drops his phone on the ground because this doesn’t feel real, it’s _not_ real, it’s not happening, Jack is not going to die. He can’t, he can’t do this, not now. Not ever.

His eye catches on a folded up piece of paper, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before, because it’s right next to his pill bottle. He picks it up slowly, carefully, like it might burn him, and sees it’s actually a few pieces of paper folded together. One says “Kenny,” one says “Mama,” and one says “Papa.” The terrible realization dawns on Kent- they’re- they’re suicide notes.

Kent can’t breathe. He can’t think. He tries to read his, but he gets as far as “Kenny, I’m so sorry” before it feels like his world is ending and he needs to stop. He pockets all the notes, even the ones that belong to Jack’s parents. He hasn’t decided yet if he’ll give the notes to them. Maybe they’d be better off if they didn’t know. If they thought it was an accident. Kent wishes he didn’t know.

He feels hot tears flow freely down his face and he doesn’t try to stop them, and he clutches the fabric of Jack’s shirt in his fist because it’s not cold like his skin.

“Promise me you’ll wake up,” he says, voice shaky, hands shaky, faith shaky. “You need to. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” 

More tears roll down his cheeks and he’s practically sobbing, now, at the thought of having to go through the draft tomorrow alone. Jack won’t be there, no matter what happens. Jack’s not gonna be there for any of it and they were supposed to do this together. Worse- Jack didn’t even _want_ to be there. He wanted- he wanted to die, to leave Kent all by himself.

“Jack, please, just wake up,” he cries, clutching Jack’s shirt so hard his knuckles turn white, “Please, I’m scared, I can’t lose you, _please_.”

The paramedics arrive and they’re all speaking quickly in French and Kent catches some of it but not all and he’s crying too hard to be of use, anyway, so one of the medics just wraps her arm around Kent and steers him out of the hotel room.

The ambulance ride is the longest ten minutes of his fucking life. They’re doing some shit to Jack that Kent doesn’t understand and looks scary, and he can’t fucking stop crying, and they’ve given him a shock blanket and a bottle of water but everything still seems like a really, really bad dream.

When they get to the hospital Jack’s parents are already there, and Kent feels a sharp pang of guilt because in his panicked state he hadn’t even thought to call them, even after the notes. They’re burning a hole in his pocket and he tries to ignore that. Jack is wheeled away and the doctors say they’re going to do everything in their power, but not even family can be in the room right now.

An odd air falls over the room once Jack is out of sight, tense and tragic, and Kent doesn’t know what to do, what to say to Jack’s parents. Everything hits him all at once, the terrible reality of his life right now, and he doesn’t know what happens, but one minute he’s fine and the next his knees are buckling and he’s on the ground. Alicia rushes over and lifts him into a chair and Bob’s there too and they’re all sort of holding onto each other for dear life. All the people who love Jack most, huddled together in the one place they all prayed they’d never end up in. Not for him.

Alicia is crying, but keeps telling him Jack will be fine, over and over- “he’s okay, he’s gonna be fine, don’t worry, he’s- he’s a strong boy, it’s okay-” and in a detached way Kent wonders if she’s reassuring him or herself. Bob just looks dazed, like he’s not really there, and his eyes are so sad Kent can’t bring himself to look at his face for more than a second. He decides then not to tell them. If- _When_ Jack wakes up, that’ll be his choice.

Kent just replays the last thing Jack had said to him in person in his head, like a song on repeat: “See you tomorrow, Kenny. See you tomorrow, Kenny. See you tomorrow, Kenny. See you tomorrow, Kenny.”

But he won’t. He won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY THAT WAS SO SAD GODDAMN. i couldn't get the idea of jack's OD being on purpose out of my head, i just feel like it makes a lot of sense for him at that time in his life. and of course kent finding him is fucking heartbreaking and i'm feeling all of the "kent/jack as sad and messed up teens" feelings. i got this from a prompt on tumblr, go reblog it there if you like/check out my other writing! (asterlark.tumblr.com) aaaaaaaaaand disclaimer i dont own any of this, the comic and characters and storylines and art and everything belong to our lord and savior ngozi, praised be unto her, this is just my interpretation, yadda yadda


End file.
